Tag: memories

The bad, the ugly and the good I would remember you however I could. A smudge for a face, my mind’s misjudged, short-sighted at night, even in grieving daydreams the dappled light shadows your features to me. And your voice that I think I can recall sounds shrill and will not reach that lilting timbre that made me safe That made me warm. We sit and talk in a mundane scene. No award winning shots that capture our dream. I know I am, but I keep it going Don’t focus too much or my brain will wake me, out of this empty longing reverie. Let’s just slide back in, butter dripping down our fingers, eating chip sandwiches at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and the dog on your knee trying to catch scraps. Then my mind switches to a stupid row when I dug in my heels. The hurt in your eyes. I cried that night. Ashamed. Freeze frame. Why does my brain punish me? I know what’s coming next. My lids are closed but I still see you there, not there, don’t leave me Again.

So my birthday isn’t until December 21st but for weeks Bee has been telling me he’s been making something special for my birthday. I was, obviously, very excited. About a week-ish ago he told me he had finally finished and he was really excited about it. He said he thought I would cry when I saw it.

(At this stage I must drop a little aside to you. He very often tries to make me cry by finding super cute and really sad stories or just really lovely heartwarming stories or videos for me to watch just so he can enjoy my tears.)

I was adamant I could wait until my actual birthday but he couldn’t wait.

(he also guesses what his gifts are when they are wrapped up)

Off he goes to his workshop of dreams and comes back with a cardboard box wrapped in brown paper and string. The first thing that I can’t miss is a gorgeous hand carved tag but all around that, on the paper were drawings of toads and magical creatures.

I’m already gone, the tag is beautiful. Then I open the box, all I can see is a mass of dried oak leaves and in the top left corner a tiny flickering light. I brush the leaves aside with my finger tips. Once I finally work out it’s form from the oak leaves I’m trying to see through my tears, even my shoulders are sobbing by themselves. I haven’t even opened it. I’m such a terrible photographer. That little goblin is holding a (real) coin in his right hand. It’s the coin you have to give for him to look after your treasures. It sticks out from the wood, and a handle of a metal trowel that pokes from the pocket in his shirt. It is all hand carved, with a couple of drumstick acorns for the smallest toadstools the two leaves on the side are metal and have been sitting on a shelf waiting for a home for a while. The shell that holds the little flickering light was something we picked up from one of our trips to Wales.

So it’s been about five minutes and I’m in a better state to open the box up…I kid you not. ARGGHHHH it’s full of little memories from trips and childhood and there’s plenty of room to fill it up with other tiny treasures. Blub blub blub. Ends in exhausted mess of happiness.